33. Adair
33
ADAIR
I have quite the conversation with myself while I’m sitting in my car, freezing my ass off but too stubborn to cave and admit I need Jack’s help. I hate the way hemakes me beg for his attention, even when I know all I’m likely to get for my trouble is him sneering at me or belittling me. But also. There’s a strange, scary part of my brain that craves this, that wants it more than anything else in the world.
It’s all the more scary because, although I really don’t want to, I have to admit I didn’t just fail at avoiding a crush on this bossy asshole. I over-achieved that failure so hard that I managed to fall in love with him.
I was afraid to tell him because it sounds sappy and I was sure he’d make fun of me, but as the weeks went by, I came to realize something: I actually like Jack. Not only when he’s making me squirm, or cry, or come so hard I think my heart’s going to stop. And not even just when he puts me back together afterwards, holding me and taking care of me. I soak all that shit up like a sponge, but it’s not just the sex stuff.
I like hanging out with him, spending time with him. Since I’ve been living in his house, things definitely felt strained sometimes, but as the weeks turned into months, the awkwardness started to fade. Jack has gotten less uptight about me using the kitchen, and he looked genuinely impressed when he bit into one of the apple turnovers I made using Paul’s recipe from work. He still tousles my hair every time he walks past the sofa when I’m drawing or reading, but I roll my eyes and groan now mostly because it’s what he expects. I don’t know how to explain to him that I secretly love it.
When I let out a groan, I can see my breath. This is bad, because now I’m thinking of all the little things, all the unexpectedly sweet things, all of the times when Jack wasn’t a bossy asshole. I blink fast a few times to keep the tears from coming. I’ll die of embarrassment if I have to go ask him for help with my eyes all red and my cheeks blotchy.
But I can’t hold back the stupid memories anyway. Just a couple of days before the blowup about Sarah, I was sitting on the sofa drawing when Jack came up behind me and ran his fingers through my hair. I braced myself for a rough tug, but he just drew it back and gathered it together. With a puzzled frown, I tipped my head back to look up at him standing over me. “Did you want it out of the way so I could blow you? I can move over.”
“Nah — wasn’t looking for that.” He gave me a shrug and a crooked little smile. “Just wanted to see how much further it had to go before you could put it into a ponytail.”
I scrunched my nose at him. “A while. It’s still shaggy.”
He cracked a real grin at that before he surprised me, letting go of my hair just to run his fingers through it again. I let my eyes slip shut with a hum.
“That feels nice,” I murmured. “It’s different from you pulling it.”
Jack chuckled in that tone that goes straight to my dick. “Is it now?” When I looked back up at him, there was amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes.
He can deny it all he wants, but Jack has been taking care of me. He put a new battery into my car and wrangled my security deposit back from my landlord. Even though he teases me about my books and my drawings, he got me a digital pencil so I could sketch as much as I wanted to and built me that beautiful bookshelf. Not to mention the fact that he let me —no, made me — move into his place even though I begged him to let me gut it out in the woods.
Even today, on a cold day when I’m sure he’s got better shit to do, he’s out here dealing with my stupid, dead car. For the second time. I was cringing when I texted him to ask for help, but he just wrote back, where? After I sent him the location, I held my breath. The response, when it came seconds later, was as underwhelming as it was a relief: Be there in 15.
I’ve never had anybody treat me like this. I don’t understand it, and I don’t know what to do with the way it makes me feel. Actually, make that didn’t know what to do, because it’s a moot point now.
I fucked up maybe the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and fucked it up good. I shot myself in the foot by going behind Jack’s back after he’d made it very clear that he didn’t want Sarah back in his life. Thoughtlessly, I went and stomped all over whatever fragile shoots of trust had been growing between us.
“Dumb bunny,” I mutter out loud to myself.
That’s the worst part — acknowledging that Jack has every right to be mad as hell at me. I put my head in my hands with a groan before jerking it back up. I don’t want him coming over and seeing me like this, looking like I’ve gone to pieces. Because I haven’t —and because he won’t, I realize. He’s going to wait for me to come to him.
So when I see him get out of his truck and walk towards me, I’m surprised. He first orders, then cajoles. Even though I’m really tempted to do what he’s asking because I can’t feel my fingertips anymore, I wait until he asks . And says please .
It feels like a tiny win.
Sitting in the passenger seat of Jack’s truck, I hold my hands up in front of the vents to thaw them out. I don’t say anything right away, partly because my lips still feel numb and clumsy with cold and partly because I’m curious to see what he’ll say. I try to avoid looking at him. I don’t want to see the hurt look in his eyes, or all that dark hair I just want to touch.
He starts. “So why are you going to throw away your money on some shit apartment with another dickhead landlord?”
I don’t hide the annoyance in my sigh. “Because I can’t stay with you anymore. You’re like, boycotting your own house! I feel guilty and so damn awkward that I honestly figured you were doing it so I’d take a hint and leave.”
“Really?” He sounds offended. “You think I’m hiding behind some passive-aggressive bullshit because I’m afraid of confrontation?”
He’s kind of got a point there.
Jack aims a dark scowl in my direction, but when he continues, his words are halting. “I figured you’d come around at some point. You know, want to talk. Or whatever.”
“Ughhh!” I run a hand through my hair. “You’re fucking impossible! You told me you didn’t even want to see my face. I thought I was following your instructions to avoid you.”
Arms folded, Jack blows out a pfft from the side of his mouth. “Since when have you ever followed through on a promise to leave me alone?”
My mouth drops open. “Uh, in case you didn’t notice, it raises the stakes a little when I’m living in your fucking house .”
An uncomfortable expression steals over his features. “Maybe I hadn’t considered that,” he mutters.
Are you for fucking real?
“I didn’t know what you wanted out of this, this…” he trails off. “Whatever this is.”
I drop my head back onto the headrest with a thump as I squeeze my eyes shut. “Relationship,” I say sharply. “This is a relationship. Or was . I don’t even fucking know.”
Jack exhales a harsh sound and my eyes fly open again. I shoot a glance at him as I put my hand on the door handle. He’s going to tell me to get the fuck out of his truck. I know it. So even though I know I’m being petty and bratty, I want to get in one last shot.
“You know, if you were literally any other guy, I’d think you were dodging the idea that this is a relationship so you could avoid feeling guilty after you dumped me. But you…” I shake my head and let out a mirthless laugh. “You’re so fucking mean, your favorite part of dating somebody is probably dumping them.”
“Back the fuck up,” he snarls. “How the hell am I supposed to know what you want it to be when you’re the one who flat-out said you didn’t want to be boyfriends?” The last word comes out as a sneer.
Taken aback, my jaw drops. “Are you talking about me??”
He rolls his eyes. “No, I mean the other dumb bunny in my life. Of course I mean you!”
“What are you talking about? I never said that!”
Jack folds his arms and fixes me with a stony stare. “ Liar .” He spits the word at me.
“What —when —” I sputter. Although this isn’t his usual game, I’m sure he’s yanking my chain. But something about this focused, contained fury unsettles me.
“One of the first days after you moved in,” he says, his voice cold. “You said you didn’t know if I saw you as a boyfriend or a roommate or some other shit. Then, before I even had a chance to say anything back, you were like, ‘I know we’re not boyfriends.’ There wasn’t much left for me to fucking say, was there?”
He looks out over the hood of his truck, not meeting my eyes now. “Even after I told you that I didn’t see you as a roommate or a charity case or whatever, you still didn’t —” He breaks off and shakes his head with a frustrated sigh. “I can take a hint.”
He turns to glare at me again, but now I can see hurt flickering around the edges of his anger. “I figured you had an issue with either the concept, or the word or —honestly, I didn’t fucking know. But I wasn’t about to push you or make you feel coerced. Not when we both knew damn well you didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
“I didn’t —” I start, my voice faint, but Jack cuts me off.
“I’m not fucking done yet,” he growls. “I thought maybe I could at least show you that —” he breaks off and looks uncomfortable.
“Show me what?” The unsteadiness of my voice makes me cringe.
“You know, that I did… care about you. Even if you weren’t comfortable with, I guess, labeling it. I tried to do things that would show you.” He shakes his head, the briefest glimmer of humor in his eyes. “Wasn’t always real sure about the friends bit, but seeing as how we seemed to have a handle on the benefits part, I figured no harm seeing where this ride was going to go.”
I tip my head back onto the headrest, more gently this time. When I squeeze my eyes shut, I’m embarrassed to feel the sting of tears. Because I know Jack has been showing me that he cares about me, even if he’s gone about everything in his usual bossy-asshole way.
Maybe that’s why I didn’t really recognize it. Or … my brain chimes in. Maybe you’re ignoring what’s in front of your face because you’re afraid of rejection if you actually tell him how you feel .
“That wasn’t what I meant.” It comes out as a whisper. “Not at all .” I swallow down a lump in my throat. “What I said about not being boyfriends — I said it because I thought it was what you wanted to hear. I didn’t even think you liked me. I felt stupid for even telling you I had a crush on you.”
Jack glowers. “How was I supposed to know that? I told you I can’t read your fucking mind.” He huffs out a sigh. “Look, if you want to think I’m an asshole, go right ahead. You wouldn’t be the first. But you were under my roof without any alternative. I’ll be damned if you —or anybody else —is going to think I’m a… a predator. The kind of person who would take advantage of a situation. Or a person. I’m not like that.”
The way he says it brings me back to sitting across from Sarah, as I told her the same thing with the same pleading tone. And as I think of that , another awful realization crashes down on me. What I did went way beyond just sending Jack’s estranged sister a message. So even though I’m already in deep shit, I have to fess up and tell him the rest.
I should just pull off the band-aid and get it over with. Jack is already furious at me, and I’ll probably wind up crying over this anyway. Hey, at least I’ve thawed out. When he tells me to get the hell out and drives away, I should be OK until I can call a tow truck.